“No! I will put them in the safe myself. Where is the key?”
“There, mademoiselle, on your dresser. But if I might——”
“You mayn’t do anything except to get out and stay out! Do you hear? Shall I never be obeyed?”
“Yes, mademoiselle; good-night.”
The soft tone was fully belied by the evil glare of the French girl’s eyes, but that was not seen by Miss Lucy Carrington.
III
THE TRAGEDY
The house faced the east, and, built on an English model, was far wider than deep. A broad hall ran through the centre from front to back, and on either side there were successive rooms whose windows looked out on equally beautiful scenes, both front and back. On the right of the hall, as one entered, was the long living room, and beyond it, the library and music room. The other side of the hall was a reception room, opening into the sun parlor, and on to the conservatory, and back of these, the dining room and smaller breakfast room.
Breakfast was served at nine, and the members of the family were usually all present. Miss Carrington, herself, made a point of being on time partly from habit, and also because it gave her opportunity to chide those who were late.
When she was not in her place, on the morning after the stormy bridge game, Pauline expressed surprise, and Haviland echoed her words.
But Anita said scornfully, “She went to bed in an awful tantrum and probably didn’t sleep well.”